


Forgot What I Didn't Know

by thornfield_girl



Category: Justified
Genre: Amnesia, Dream Sex, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-Canon, Sharing Body Heat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-21
Updated: 2013-01-21
Packaged: 2017-11-26 08:45:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/648735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thornfield_girl/pseuds/thornfield_girl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Raylan can't remember anything, but there are things he knows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forgot What I Didn't Know

Boyd sat at Audrey's, nursing his second glass of whiskey. Raylan was supposed to meet him over an hour before, and he didn't have that much money to spend on drinks. One of the girls, Alma, asked him if he'd been stood up, and he laughed it off, said he was just waiting for Raylan. Damn if it didn't feel a little like that, though. 

Raylan had said he was going home to shower and change, then heading straight over. Boyd finished his drink and realized he was starting to feel fairly angry. Raylan only ever thought of himself, and Boyd was tired of it. 

He threw some money on the bar and walked quickly out to his truck. It had started raining steadily, and he remembered that he'd meant to put new wipers on over the weekend, but never got around to it. These didnt work for shit, and he drove slowly on the curves of the road. 

He was heading towards Raylan's house. He planned to tell him what an asshole he was.

He came around a sharp turn in the road, rain coming down harder now, and his high beams alighted on a familiar truck, stopped with the front end angled into the bushes past the shoulder, facing the direction of Audrey's. 

It was Raylan's truck, Boyd was almost certain. He pulled over and jogged across the road, but there was no one in the drivers seat. His anger had turned to something close to concern, but he figured Raylan must have just had to piss really bad or something. He walked around the truck, getting wetter by the second, and was confronted by the sight of Raylan on his knees, clutching his head. 

Boyd walked over and put a hand on his shoulder. "Raylan? What's going on?"

Raylan looked up slowly, his eyes hazy. "You know me?" he asked.

Boyd's brows came down hard, and he said, "What the fuck you talking about, son? I've known you all my life."

"Oh... right. You're..." He put a hand to his head and bent over again like he might want to be sick.

"What the hell happened?" Boyd asked.

"I don't..." Raylan looked at him again. "You say you know me. Are we friends?"

Boyd's frown turned into something else, something frightened. "We are. I'll help you. Come on." He pulled Raylan up by the arm and brought him across to his truck. "You sit in here," he told him, "I'm just gonna move your truck off the road, alright?"

"A-alright. Thanks."

Boyd nodded curtly and walked back over. He glanced at the truck for signs of new damage and finds none, so it wasn't a car accident that caused this.

Back at his own truck, Raylan had tilted his head back and closed his eyes.

"Raylan, wake up," he says sharply. "I don't think you should sleep yet. I _should_ take you to the hospital, but I know you don't have no insurance."

Raylan's looking at him strangely, in a way he'd only noticed once before, when they'd been very drunk. His eyes weren't half shuttered like they normally were. They were wide and honest, and the tiniest of smiles played across his lips.

"What is it, Raylan?"

"What's your name?" he asks, his voice husky and quiet.

Boyd sighed and said, "I'm Boyd. Boyd Crowder. We first met in Sunday school."

"Oh," Raylan replies, smiling uncertainly. "Are we..." The smile falters, and he stops talking. Boyd wants to ask, but can't bring himself to. 

"I'm gonna take you home."

Raylan's expression shut down completely at that, and he said, "No. Please, that's where... I think someone hurt me there."

"Shit," Boyd spat. "Okay, alright. There's a cabin, not too far, one of Daddy's. I'll take you. You gotta get dry."

Boyd drove as fast as he dared, but the roads out to this cabin are twisty and slick with mud. By the time they arrived, Raylan was asleep, despite Boyd's frequent smacks on his arm.

He went around to Raylan's side and opened the door. "Come on, get up," he said, wrestling Raylan's arm around his shoulder and supporting him by the waist. They struggled into the cabin.

"Where are we?" Raylan asked, and Boyd had no idea what the question even meant. Did he mean, "Whose cabin is this?" or "What state are we in?"

"This is my daddy's cabin," he replied. Boyd found an old electric heater in the closet and plugged it in near the couch. Raylan was shivering quite a bit. 

Boyd found several blankets in the coat closet and brought them to the living room. "We gotta get dry, Raylan. I ain't got clothes here, but we can wrap up in the blankets, alright?"

Raylan's smile was back, but this one was different. His mouth had a sly twist to it and he said, "Alright." 

He started unbuttoning his shirt, and Boyd was out of all of his clothes before noticing that Raylan was still on the third button. He mentally cursed Arlo, then wrapped a blanket around himself before going over to help. 

Raylan was looking at him the whole time, that same smile on his face. "Thank you," he said, sliding the shirt off his shoulders. "My head's fuzzy."

"I know," Boyd said, smiling involuntarily. "Get those wet jeans off and wrap up, okay?"

"There's a button on those too... Boyd." Boyd looked up quickly, but Raylan was grinning and had already managed to work the fly open. 

Boyd handed him a blanket as soon as the jeans were off, then hung all their clothes on kitchen chairs before settling down on the couch next to him. There was a third blanket, which he knew they would need. The temperatures had already dropped into the upper 30s, and he was sure it would reach freezing overnight. Boyd pulled the blanket up over the two of them, and drew his legs up. 

“Do you remember what happened, Raylan? You said someone hurt you.”

Raylan shook his head. “Not really. I... there was a fight. I think I tried to do something, but...” 

Boyd could see he was getting agitated, and he didn’t see any point in that. Not when he didn’t know what the hell was going on or who anyone was. 

“That’s alright,” he said, “I know you’re confused. You were coming to meet me. We were gonna meet at Audrey’s. I think you started driving there, but then I guess you had to stop when you didn’t feel well.”

Raylan reached an arm out from his blanket cocoon and put it on Boyd’s shoulder. “You found me,” he said, “Thanks.”

“I was coming to yell at you for bein’ late,” Boyd said, laughing a little and trying to ignore the hand on him. That wasn’t something Raylan normally did.

“Oh. Sorry,” he replied, sliding the hand around to Boyd’s neck. “I’m sure I didn’t intend to be.” 

Boyd stayed perfectly still, not knowing how to react to Raylan touching him in such a way. Raylan started to lean in close, and Boyd was torn between wanting to let this happen, and feeling like an asshole for even considering it. Raylan was clearly not himself. It wasn’t fair. 

He reached up and pulled Raylan’s hand away, gently, trying not to make him think he was pissed. He held it for a minute and smiled, then placed it back in Raylan’s own lap. 

Raylan frowned slightly, clearly confused. “I’m sorry... it felt like... so we’re not...”

“We’re just friends, Raylan,” Boyd said, fascinated. Why Raylan would have imagined such a thing, he couldn’t imagine. “But it’s alright, I ain’t upset about it. Let’s just... what do you want to talk about? Want to ask me questions?”

"I wanna sleep," he groaned. 

"Not yet," Boyd said, wondering how long he was supposed to do this for. The boy really should be in he hospital. If he didn't seem right by morning, Boyd would take him in. 

"Just talk, then. Just tell me things. I want to remember."

Boyd nodded, thought that might be a good idea, so he started telling him about their childhoods, about Raylan's family, about high school, and what they were doing now.

"I know about the mine," Raylan interrupted suddenly. "I remembered that. I hate it."

Boyd looks at him in sympathy and replies, "Yes. You do."

They talked until Boyd felt like there were weights on his eyelashes, and Raylan kept dozing off in the middle of sentences. Boyd didn't know how bad it would be to let him sleep, but he didn't see how they could avoid it much longer. They fell asleep, leaning against each other, on the ratty old couch. 

Boyd was dreaming, an unusually vivid dream, but understandable after what had happened, what Raylan had asked him. Raylan was on top of him, kissing him, naked, and it didn't feel strange or shameful at all, in this dream. They were in a single bed, in a white room somewhere that he didn't recognize. Boyd was naked too, and their bodies felt so right against each other. 

Raylan was squirming against him, and he pushed back, looking for the angle, looking for friction, and he found it. His hips strained against Raylan, lifting into him over and over as the feeling built, and as he came, he yelled Raylan's name. 

"That's right," Raylan whispered, and lowered his mouth to Boyd's. 

Boyd opened his eyes. Raylan was really there, he was in Boyd's lap, still grinding against him, still kissing him. "I knew we were. It's obvious. Why'd you wanna mess with me like that, boy?"

"Raylan-"

"I need a hand, Boyd. Put your hand on me, please."

Boyd wondered how disturbed Raylan was going to be about this later, when he remembered who he was, who they were. Boyd thinks it must be something he'd already wanted, on some level, for it to come out like this. 

Boyd reached down for his dick and stroked it, and Raylan drew a sharp breath before pressing his lips to Boyd's again. Boyd pulled up faster, did it like he was doing himself, wanting to finish this and let Raylan go back to sleep. Boyd was fairly sure he himself wouldn't be able to.

Raylan was panting in his ear, his breath coming in little gasps, and then he was whispering _yes, god, oh oh_ and his come came spurting out over Boyd's hand. 

Raylan kissed him again, then pulled his blanket around himself and laid his head down on the arm of the sofa, curled up like a dog. Boyd sat for a minute, rather stunned at this development, then got up to rinse off his hand in the old, stained porcelain sink. 

He wrapped himself up again and curled up at the opposite end of the sofa, thinking he'd never be able to fall back asleep. He was gone in less than three minutes.

Boyd woke up cold. The heater had apparently turned itself off in the night, and he could see his breath in the cold morning light. He got up to check their clothes, which he found to be stiff and cold, but dry, and he brought them back to the living room.

He looked at Raylan, fast asleep and snoring, beautiful. His stomach churned at the thought of what might happen today. 

Boyd pulled on his clothes, all but his boots, and got back under the blanket. He tucked the third blanket around Raylan, then sat back to wait for him.

Raylan blinked his eyes open maybe twenty minutes later. He looked utterly confused for a few seconds, then he looked straight at Boyd and they cleared. "Is this your daddy's cabin? What the hell are we doing here?"

"You don't remember anything?" Boyd asked. 

Raylan frowned. "Did we go to Audrey's? I don't remember shit. My head hurts like a bitch, though, Jesus fuckin' Christ. How much did I drink?"

Boyd sighed and said, "I'll tell you everything, but put your clothes on first."

"Why the fuck are my clothes off, Boyd?" 

Raylan was frowning hard at him, and Boyd snorted. "They were soaking wet from the rain. Just get dressed, and we can go, and I'll explain."

Raylan nodded and started pulling on his jeans. He glanced over at Boyd, hesitated, and said, "I've never been blackout drunk before. Did I- I didn't say anything weird, did I?" 

Boyd looked at him for a moment without answering. He knew what the boy must be asking. "You weren't blackout drunk," he answered, "you had a concussion. The whole thing was weird, but like I said, I'll tell you on the way out of here."

Raylan closed his mouth tight, nodded, and finished getting dressed. Boyd folded the blankets and put them back in the closet. As he was doing that, Raylan came up behind him and touched him on the back. 

"Boyd," he said quietly. "Last night. I thought it was a dream, and maybe... I don't know. Was it? Do you know what I'm talking about?"

Boyd nodded. "It wasn't a dream, Raylan."

Raylan's eyes went wide and scared, and he whispered, "I'm sorry. Shit."

Boyd shook his head and said, "Don't worry about it."

"Boyd, I didn't- I'm not- I was never gonna do anyth-"

"Raylan, shut up," Boyd cut in. "You were hurt and confused. It wasn't your fault, and I ain't mad. Maybe you should be pissed at me, though. I should have stopped you, but I didn't." He's looking at Raylan intently, because he thinks this could go either way. 

"Why didn't you?" Raylan says, his voice still weak and shocked sounding.

Boyd laughed softly and said, "I think you know why. Last night you said it was obvious. I guess it is, when I let myself see it."

"I- oh. You..."

Boyd nodded, and needed to move forward less than a foot to close the space between them. He kissed him softly on the mouth, and Raylan's hands came up, hesitant on his shoulders. 

"What's gonna happen now?" Raylan asked. 

"I have no earthly idea, Raylan."

Raylan nodded, and they left to drive down out of the hills as Boyd told him about the rest of the night. The details hardly seemed important now, not after what they'd discovered about each other. The question was what it could possibly mean to them.


End file.
